


light breaks where no sun shines

by O Lord Heal This OAbsalom (OAbsalom)



Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, Perfectly Horrid Velocipedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAbsalom/pseuds/O%20Lord%20Heal%20This%20OAbsalom
Summary: Aziraphale's holy form is quite inconvenient to sleeping Crowlies.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733320
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	light breaks where no sun shines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**Not-So-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies**](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OLHTCrack) **(née _Perfectly Horrid Velocipedes_ )** wherein _O Lord Heal This (Discord) Server_ gets together with a terrible, ungodly crack prompt and writes our ~~best~~ worst fic in 300 words or less, average word count 1.5k. 
> 
> Thank you, my dearest [Veevethan (vol_ctrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl) for all of your amazing work putting this monstrosity of an event together, keeping everyone on track, and delegating like a boss! And a big shoutout to [nothing_goldcanstay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_goldcanstay) for all of your help organizing the event in the past!
> 
> This week's prompt: "Eldritch horror forms." Edit: Co-winner of this week's _Ridiculously Tickety Boo_ award!

"GAHHHGSG" Crowley woke from a dead sleep and threw an arm over his face in pain to cover his eyes. 

"ANGEL, _God and Satan, **why?** "_

The blinding light hovering over the bed next to him pulsated gold and brilliant white. A book with gilded pages lay open below it. 

An unearthly hum resonated from the light, simultaneously the highest pitch and lowest din possible: "I couldn't sleep."

"Bloody Heaven," Crowley spat, pulling the sheet over his head to no avail - the blinding rays shone directly through - and twisted his body around to face the other direction. "What possessed you to be so bright?!"

"... I couldn't see to read."

"Cou-- Just turn on the blessed overhead light, Aziraphale!"

"... I didn't want to get up."

Crowley reached to his bedside table, slammed his glasses onto his face, and buried his head into the pillow, ignoring the metal jabbing into his cheeks. A mumble rose from the down that might have resembled, "Shucking shells," but might have been something altogether else.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem of the same name by Dylan Thomas


End file.
